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Reward trees entries
Since the Homecoming one can unlock lore entries through spending the reward points. Monsters Faction tree Scroll 1: Humans enjoy marking arbitrary lines on maps, imagining themselves the supreme rulers of the land. Yet, within these borders they draw are forests, swamps, and uninhabited expanses where they dare not venture, for these are still the domains of monsters. Scroll 2: The Continent is, indeed, home to an astonishing number and variety of monstrosities. Necrophages, relicts, hybrids, draconids... To this day, new species are still being discovered by explorers who, to no great surprise, rarely live long enough to claim a second discovery. Scroll 3: There is rich diversity among monster species. From mindless, bloodcrazed beasts, such as ghouls, to the frighteningly intelligent, such as higher vampires. From gargantuan fiends to nekker swarms. Yet, they do share a common thread. Humans. Or rather... their appetite for human flesh. Scroll 4: Yet, it is precisely because of this diversity that humans have been able to maintain some semblance of control over the Continent. But if any force were to unite the monsters of the world, impose a degree of discipline, well... the dominion of man would collapse like a house of cards. Chest 1: Though difficult to envision now, the Continent was once entirely devoid of monsters. However, that changed over one thousand years ago following the Conjunction of the Spheres – the result of a particularly unfortunate alignment of the planets. Worlds once separate began to merge, plunging the Continent into centuries of chaos, soaking the earth in blood. Chest 2: In time, humans learned to cope with their monstrous new neighbors. They discovered that many beasts are repelled by salt, hence they scattered it in protective barriers. Through trial and error, they learned that a red ribbon worn on the wrist frightens off nekkers, likewise silver with werewolves and vampires. Last but not least, using both magic and alchemy, they created witchers – itinerant monster-slayers for hire. Chest 3: "Which monster is most dangerous?" A common topic for debate among the Continent's inhabitants. Is it a fiend, whose wither measures 10 feet? A griffin that can shred an armored knight and his mount in one fell swoop? Or perhaps an arachas, whose venom is so poisonous that just one drop can incapacitate an adult man? The truth is that none of these have killed as many people as the common rat, which exposed all of the Northern Kingdoms to the Catriona Plague... Unseen Elder Scroll 1: In the caverns beneath Toussaint, an aeons-old vampire patiently awaits the next Conjunction of the Spheres. His brethren call him the Unseen Elder, and mortals – well... One cannot name what one does not know to exist. Scroll 2: The Unseen Elder craves not power, wealth nor even blood. His sole desire is to return to the world from which he has long been exile. For centuries he has watched the gate between worlds that now stands closed to him. Scroll 3: Hanging silently from the cavern's ceiling, the Unseen Elder appears perfectly still as if plunged into a deep slumber, not unlike a bat in winter. Yet swift and terrifying danger awaits any who dare disturb his rest or threaten the gate between worlds. Scroll 4: One word – enough for the Unseen Elder to demand obedience from any vampire. One movement – enough to slice a foe in two. As a general rule, it's best to give the caves beneath Toussaint a wide, wide berth. Chest 1: Despite centuries of seclusion in his lair, the Unseen Elder knows Common Speech. Yet the few daring souls who have met him and survived warn of his dangerous impatience with conversation. Just one half-baked question, one lie... And his fangs are at your throat. All are powerless in such a circumstance – even those with the superhuman reflexes of a witcher. Chest 2: On their honor, the residents of Toussaint swear that sometimes on calm, still nights, the waters of Lac Célavy carry strange, foreign whispers that make skin crawl and hair stand on end. It is the Unseen Elder, speaking to his brothers and sisters, counseling patience. For one day, the gates between the worlds will open again, and they shall at last return from whence then came. Chest 3: Vampires regard the Unseen Elder with a fawning respect. Upon entering his presence, they bow deeply and bestow offerings. When the Unseen Elder makes demands of them, they subserviently carry out his wishes without a moment's hesitation. Is it not frightening to think what might happen should the Unseen Elder one day emerge from his lair into our world, unite an army of vampiric minions, and declare war on the human race? Well, certainly. Yet such an event is likely to never occur... Right? Northern Realms Faction tree Scroll 1: Temeria, Redania, Kaedwen, Aedirn, Kovir, Poviss... There are few who can keep track of the North's many kingdoms and duchies. No sooner had humans seized the land from dwarves and elves than shattered it into dozens of tiny pieces and continued the fight for control amongst each other. Scroll 2: Time and time again, come the thaw of spring, the leaders of the North resumed their petty wars. Temeria attempted to strip Sodden from Cintra. Aedirn and Kaedwen vied for control of the Pontar Valley. Yet, when the black-clad Nilfgaardian legions appeared from the south, they reckoned that, in the end, they stood more united than divided. Scroll 3: When the Nilfgaardian invasion began, most presumed the North would be obliterated in a matter of weeks. Yet, to their great surprise, the outnumbered and underequipped Nordlings managed to repel the Empire's legions. Scroll 4: Had the involvement of mages proved the deciding factor in the North's victory? Or was it the tactical genius of well-trained generals? Perhaps the contributions of Oxenfurt's brilliant inventors? Debates on the topic rage to this day. It seems not even a united victory can keep Nordlings from being at each other's throats for long... Chest 1: The Northern Realms are bordered by three mountain ranges to the north, east, and south – the Dragon, Blue, and Amell Mountains – and the Great Sea to the west. Yet, what lies beyond these? Nordlings themselves are not quite certain, and to be honest, it's not their most pressing concern. Preoccupied by local disputes, quarrels, and wars, they haven't the time to take interest in foreign lands. Alas, the Nilfgaardian invasion serves as proof that the rest of the world is not of the same mind. Chest 2: What links a town like Vizima, proud capital of Temeria, or Oxenfurt, a center of learning for all the North, with Aedd Gynvael, a provincial settlement at the end of the known world? Nothing, it would seem... After all, each of these places looks, sounds and even smells different. Their origins, however, are identical – all were founded atop ancient elven cities. The ruins sprawling beneath their streets bear witness to this fact. What caused elven civilization to collapse? Plague? Cataclysm? No... Their destruction was wrought by humans. Chest 3: Nordlings often feel conflicted about magic and those who practice it. On the one hand, mages served an undeniably crucial role in the North's defense against Nilfgaard. Yet on the other, their unabashed egotism and tendency to meddle in politics became an irritation to communities and sovereigns alike. The epitome of such arrogance was Philippa Eilhart who, rather than sit content as king's counsel, resolved to take on a leading role herself. This dream would not last, however... And in the end, the flames of pyres raged across the North. King Demavend III Scroll 1: Demavend possessed many traits that predisposed the king for greatness. Well-educated, shrewd, cunning, a master of political intrigue. Unfortunately, he was also very, very impatient. Scroll 2: King Demavend was never satisfied with the present. He always looked to tomorrow, to the great feats of his future, shrugging off the mundane tasks of the court. Whilst his advisers bored him with the nuances of prudent fiscal policy, he quietly planned his next conquest... Scroll 3: Aedirn's neighbors learned quickly that Demavend could never be appeased with compromise. His kingdom expanded like dough baked in too small a bread pan, pushing and stretching in all directions. Not unlike the Nilfgaardian Empire... Scroll 4: When Nilfgaardian forces eventually crossed the Yaruga, a panicked fear struck deeply in all the rulers of the North. All except for King Demavend, that is. He rejoiced, for at last he would face an enemy worthy of Aedirn's might! Of course... His jubilation would not last long. Chest 1: Although all now are too young to recall, Demavend was once a strapping young man. Foltest himself would have envied the man's eagle-like profile. Maidens swooned when caught under the gaze of his piercing emerald eyes. But years of plenty have taken their toll. A plump belly and rosy cheeks show clearly that the king was never want for sumptuous food and drink. His saggy neck and hunched shoulders proved further that he preferred to command his armies from a silk-lined throne in place of a saddle... Chest 2: Demavend's hatred for elves was legendary. While Vizimir and Foltest fought the Squirrels out of necessity, the King of Aedirn hunted the rebels down with astonishing enthusiasm. Despite the fact that the war with Nilfgaard had nearly drained Aedirn's royal treasury, Demavend offered 50 ducats for every Scoia'tael head. Taking advantage of the lucrative bounty, Aedirnians often falsely accused and captured innocent elves and dwarves. Demavend was perfectly aware his subjects were exploiting the offer. And yet, he didn't seem bothered in the least... Chest 3: Under his crown, Demavend always wore a white cap embroidered with gold thread – undeterred even by the sweltering summer months. Why? It seems the vain king was ashamed of his retreating hairline. Many alchemists and barbers passed through his court, offering promises to restore the Aedirnian ruler's lustrous mane. Each of them, to the last, spent their remaining days in the Aldersberg dungeons for their failure – deprived of freedom... and their own scalps. King Henselt Scroll 1: King Henselt did not inspire awe with his bandit-like countenance. He did not dazzle ballroom crowds with charisma. He did not impress courtiers with refinement... Yet on the battlefield, one could see a master at work. Scroll 2: Henselt was capable of determining a catapult's range down to an inch. He walked amongst his siege machines not unlike a proud father – affectionately patting the stones, plucking at the taut ropes as would a troubador with his harp... Scroll 3: Worse was when his attention shifted away from matters of war, for Henselt preferred the company of his siege machines to that of man. He was quick to anger... But not quick to calm. Scroll 4: As a result, despite his undisputed talent on the battlefield, Kaedwen's power did not grow under Henselt's leadership. He failed to gain allies and turn his military victories into lasting successes. Though this did not bother the king, as he waged war for its own sake. Chest 1: Fate has a twisted sense of humor and Henselt was one of its many victims. The King of Kaedwen often enjoyed boasting of his virility. Following several mugs of stout, he once proudly whispered to a confidant that he had fathered enough bastard children to fill all the thrones of the North – perhaps even several Nilfgaardian provinces. However, after his only legitimate heir died on a hunting expedition, the king failed to beget another successor to the throne – despite his many attempts. Some say it was Henselt's failures in the royal bedchambers that contributed to his explosive temperament... Chest 2: Henselt did not have kingly countenance. Beady, wandering eyes. A bulbous, red nose. A large, bushy beard... Such a description better suits a bandit than one of the North's most prominent monarchs. Aware of less-than-noble visage, Henselt carefully curated his grand and stately attire, always taking care to bear the royal insignia. He wore an immense belt adorned with silver towers, a fifteen-ounce chain of solid gold, a crown topped with the royal unicorn, and a crimson kaftan exquisitely trimmed with weasel fur. But, as King Foltest used to say with a smile on his face, "A hog festooned with gold remains a hog all the same." Chest 3: Henselt long refused to accept mages and sorceresses into his court. Though, in the end, he eventually included Sabrina Glevissig among his advisors, albeit not as a source of advice, but as yet another symbol of power – much like an ermine coat or golden scepter. Her role in the Kaedweni court was of the cosmetic variety. However, Sabrina refused to stay silent – sometimes silencing her king with a shout or by pounding her fists on the table. In time, she earned Henselt's recognition, but never forgot about the insults and disdain that first greeted her. Years later, when the opportunity struck, Sabrina betrayed the king... An offense for which she paid the ultimate price. Scoia'tael Eithné Scroll 1: Even sworn enemies sometimes negotiate, perhaps in the hope of establishing a comromise or truce. But never Eithné, Queen of the Dryads. Her hatred toward humans is unwavering. To their bargains, pleas, cries, threats, her answer is always the same – a well-aimed arrow between the eyes. Scroll 2: Under Eithné's leadership, humans are never permitted to enter the forests of Brokilon. Well... Almost never. After all, even dryads must procreate somehow. Scroll 3: For this reason, dryads will kidnap human girls and, occasionally, men in their prime. Their role in dryad society is easy to guess. However, they are then forever banished from the forest once their "duty" is fulfilled... Despite their impassioned pleas to stay. Scroll 4: Girls who are brought in to swell the dryads' ranks are made to drink from a source known as the Water of Brokilon. It sharpens their senses, strengthens their bodies... And rids them of their memories. Chest 1: Dryads possess a power allowing them to influence plants to grow in any shape. In this way they construct their fortifications, homes, and palaces. The process is slow, sometimes lasting centuries... Fortunately, dryads are a patient bunch. Chest 2: The most gifted dryads are able to push this ability further, to create new life-forms from plants, capable of movement... Even rudimentary thought. These beings are known as treants. Few have laid eyes upon them – knowingly, at least. In a dense forest, they are near impossible to spot... And even more difficult to escape. Chest 3: From time to time, the human leaders of the realms that border Brokilon – Verden, Cidaris, and Temeria – once again resolve to set ablaze the primeval forest and the dryads who dwell within. Up to the wood's edge they transport barrels of tar and straw. However, they are typically abandoned with haste after the first volley of silent arrows is released from behind the wall of trees. Filavandrel Scroll 1: Filavandrel nearly always insisted that he be addressed by his full name – Filavandrel aén Fidháil of the Silver Towers and House of Feleaorn of the White Ships. Perhaps his insistance says more about him that the list of titles itself. Scroll 2: Unlike most elves, Filavandrel never experienced life under human yoke. He never endured the humiliation of descrimination nor the fear of pogroms. He bore the proud expression of one who was never beaten down nor forced to bend knee. Scroll 3: Filavandrel did not fit the image of a stalwart warrior. He wore flowing robes and paid great attention to his appearance. And yet, sword in hand, he proved more dangerous than a raging fiend. Scroll 4: Filavandrel served as the the closest advisor and confidant to Francesca Findabair. He had great respect for the Queen of Dol Blathanna. She was the only individual with whom he was carefult to never put on airs. Chest 1: When the kingdom of elves fell to ruin, Filavandrel found refuge in the Blue Mountains, at the edge of the world, far from human settlements. There, surrounded with rubble and mountain pine, he longed for the day he could return to his beloved Valley of Flowers... And the luxuries with which it overflowed. Chest 2: The White Ships – words belonging to one of Filavandrel's many titles – are a reference to the vessels on which the elves first arrived to the Continent. Yes, yes... The noble Aen Seidhe were not this world's first inhabitants. A fact they are reluctant to admit... Likely because the cruelty they inflicted upon the land's indigenous races bears a striking resemblance to humans' callous treatment of elves several hundred years later. Chest 3: Filavandrel has many reasons to be proud. Among them is the fact that he once belonged to a small group who managed to best the legendary Geralt of Rivia in battle. He stood poised to kill the witcher, but his hand was stayed by the sudden appearance of Dana Méadbh, an elven goddess who abhors bloodshed. Had she not intervened, the fate of the world might have turned out rather differently... Skellige Bran Tuirseach Scroll 1: They say it is easier to tame the seas crashing against Skellige's shores than the Skelligers themselves. Yet Bran did just that. He united the isles and the clans behind him – and long ruled with an iron fist. Scroll 2: What was his secret? How did he succeed when others failed? Was it courage? Cunning? Intimidation? No, nothing of the sort. Bran tapped into a power previously unknown to the isles' inhabitants – compromise. Scroll 3: When others would reach for ax and bow, Bran invited his rivals to banquet. With honey-sweet words, purses laden with coin, and barrels heavy with mead, it proved difficult to disagree with Skellige's king for long. Scroll 4: Despite never slaying an ice giant or raiding the City of Golden Towers, Bran is remembered as a truly great ruler. Though not a hero in his own right, he delivered peace to the Isles, ushering in a period of growth and prosperity for the next generation of Skellige's champions. Chest 1: Bran's closest advisor and confidant was his wife, Birna. During banquets, she always sat at his side, silent, nearly unnoticeable in the bustle. She could recall every uttered rumor, every knowing wink, every raised eyebrow. Then later, in the bear skin-adorned bed of the royal bedchamber, she would whisper into her husband's ear all that she had learned... Chest 2: Despite Birna's repeated requests, Bran refused to champion their son, Svanrige, as rightful heir to the throne. He believed if the boy truly deserved the crown, he'd earn it without the king's intercession. If found unworthy, so be it. Bran found the Continent's long history of dynastic rule preposterous. Birna, on the other hand, could not be persuaded to feel the same... Chest 3: Bran lived a long life – a very long life. When, just after his eightieth birthday, his hands began to tremble and his thoughts began to wander mid-sentence, he set out with a small hunting party. Wearing only delicate linens and armed with only a knife, he departed for An Skellig in search of a bear... And an honorable death. Crach an Craite Scroll 1: At a young age, Crach was foretold that he would one day clash with a foreign ruler, an enemy to Skellige, on the Isles' stormy, coastal seas. For his entire life, the head of Clan an Craite waited for that fateful day... Scroll 2: Convinced the prophecy referred to the Emperor of Nilfgaard, Crach constantly urged his fleet to remain watchful for black sails bearing the Golden Sun. He eagerly awaited the emperor's arrival, to look him in the eye before wresting the crown from his head. Scroll 3: Years passed, then decades... Crach sank dozens of Nilfgaardian galleys, yet the emperor's feet remained on dry land. Apparently, he was troubled by matters more important than the taming the rocky isles. Scroll 4: Crach became convinced the prophecy must have been misinterpreted. Resigned, he ceased his search for the great sea battle that was written for him in the stars. That is, until on Skellige's shores appeared the Naglfar – the ghostly drakkar commanded by the King of the Wild Hunt himself. Chest 1: Due to the havoc wrought by his fleets in the Empire's coastal territories, Crach earned the moniker "Tirth ys Muire" – the Wild Boar of the Sea. Pleased with the new epithet, Crach decided to sculpt the bow of his drakkar into the likeness of raging boar's head. According to legend, they harvested the wood from Gedyneith, the sacred oak of Ard Skellig. The drakkar instilled fear into the hearts of enemies, for whenever they rammed into an enemy vessel, the wild boar's eyes would glow blood red... Chest 2: Crach an Craite fathered two children – his son, Hjalmar, and his daughter, Cerys. When asked whom he would wish to see as heir and successor, he could only sigh, conflicted by his thoughts. Hjalmar reminded Crach of his younger self – ambitious, valiant, hungry for glory. An impressive warrior, yes... But a jarl? Cerys, on the other hand, possessed all the qualities required of a capable leader. But were the islanders prepared to follow the word of a woman? Only time would tell... Chest 3: As a young man – his beard a rich auburn, his smile broad, the famed vanquisher of the Nilfgaardian armada – Crach stole the gaze of many women. Why, even the famous Yennefer of Vengerberg was enticed by Crach's charm. According to rumor, he asked for the sorceress' hand in marriage. In response, Yennefer smiled, kissed him on his brow... then opened a portal and disappeared from the Skellige Isles for nearly three decades. Eist Tuirseach Scroll 1: Eist looked different than the other islanders. His hair dark, his skin markedly aged and weathered by the sun – he stood out in a crowd. His appearance, it seemed, paralled a certain longing, for he often looked upon the horizon, his gaze distant, giving the sense that his thoughts were lost somewhere far beyond Skellige's shores... Scroll 2: Eventually, Eist did leave his homeland to settle in Cintra at the side of the illustrious Queen Calanthe. They say one look from the swarthy pirate was enough to melt the queen's icy heart... Scroll 3: Although Eist loved Calanthe beyond measure, he was never truly happy in Cintra. He could not shake the lingering feeling that catastrophe awaited him, that a tragic fate had been written for him in the stars... Scroll 4: Indeed, several years following their wedding, Nilfgaard attacked Cintra. Eist fought the invaders with the fury of a sea devil, but eventually fell, pierced by an arrow. The Skellige Isles, his homeland, now serve as his final resting place. He lies there alone, for Calanthe's body was never found. Chest 1: Eist Tuirseach and Calanthe never bore children. Some claimed that the Lioness of Cintra – for whom this was her second marriage – was incapable of granting an heir due to her advanced age. However, those closest to Eist knew better. The islander never wished to father a child – not after witnessing what power resided within Calanthe's daughter, Pavetta. In the veins of Cintrian royalty flowed the Elder Blood, which he believed would not mix well with the hot temper so characteristic of Skelligers. Chest 2: Eist became renowned on the Isles for his skills as a sailor. He could maneuver a longship through Skellige's narrowest fjords on a moonless night, navigate the fiercest storms at full sail, and drive Nilfgaardian ships more than twice the size of his own onto the islands' jagged, rocky coastlines. Who knows what new and exotic lands he might have discovered had he not planted his roots in Cintra... Chest 3: To ensure his ship never deviated from its course, Eist often closely observed the stars. Yet one night – lying on the deck of his longship, hands clasped behind his head – he eyed something more than just a map etched in sky. He saw something that turned the good-humored, carefree adventurer in him into a grim and somber man. Whenever asked what he saw in the stars that night, Eist merely replied... "The future." Season of the Bear (February - March) School of the Bear Scroll 1: The School of the Bear... Little is known about it, yet one look at their custom armor reveals telling details of the witchers who wear it. A hardy quilted gambeson, heavy mail extending to the knees, plate armor spaulders to protect the shoulders... Scroll 2: A witcher equipped in such gear would not leap from raking claws, nor sidestep a beast's gnashing fangs. There is no need, for he can endure the blows... And ensure a short distrance from which he can exact his revenge. Scroll 3: Unlike witchers from the Wolf School – who possess strong bonds of friendship and brotherhood – those from the Bear School prefer a solitary lifestyle, away from the company of other witchers. Should they encounter others on the path, however, rarely does it end without bloodshed. Scroll 4: Bear witchers often travel to the Skellige Isles – and this should come as no surprise. For the islands have no shortage of monsters and the witchers get along rather well with the similarly brash, bearded locals... Chest 1: Queen Meve of Lyria and Rivia once encountered a witcher from the School of the Bear. His name was Ivo. His dark complexion suggested he originally hailed from the warm climate of the Continent's southern regions. Whereas, the bluntness with which he responded to the queen's questions suggested he rarely conversed with heads of state... Chest 2: A witcher from the School of the Bear once ventured into Toussaint. Junod of Belhaven was his name – as big as a mountain, with a beard that would put a dwarf elder to shame. He accepted a contract to slay a monster that dwelled in the caverns beneath Marcescent Forest. Alas, he was never seen again... Chest 3: Just where is the School of the Bear? Some say hidden amidst the Slopes. Others argue it's found farther south, beyond the Amell Mountains. In fact, no one truly knows. And it's no surprise that Bear witchers have kept their whereabouts a secret, for the slaughter of the Wolf and Cat schools was known far and wide... Vernon Roche TBA Year of the Wild Boar (2019) TBA